


It never settles down

by lesbianjackrackham



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Crack, Gen, and a smidge of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 12:44:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13434981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbianjackrackham/pseuds/lesbianjackrackham
Summary: As is turns out, Daniel is actually that stupid.





	It never settles down

It’s been over 60 hours since he last had more than ten minutes of uninterrupted sleep.

Alana would have the correct count down to the second, not that it makes a difference. Daniel is covered in gunpowder, his own blood, someone else’s blood, and some mysterious slime that he doesn’t want to investigate, but they’re back at command and minutes away from being able to crawl home and fall asleep in the shower.

Once Kepler stops talking, that is.

They’ve given him their mission reports–-well, Alana, mostly, Daniel grunted a bunch–-and now Kepler is explaining to them everything they did wrong, all the ways they fucked the mission, the ways they exposed Goddard, and themselves, etc. etc. He knows the spiel.

He’s doing his best not to yawn, hands propping up his chin so he doesn’t look completely zoned out. He’s started to doze off, but it’s Kepler’s fault. Not just that the words are boring, which, they absolutely are, but in Daniel’s own, fucked up little brain, he finds Kepler’s voice soothing. He’s fallen asleep to it a few times before, his weird, 'what the fuck is that supposed to be a Southern accent,' accent. It’s the voice in his ear, telling him where to go, what to do, and how it’s going to go. He’s–

Then Daniel’s yanked up by a large hand threaded through his hair. He’s awake immediately, and looking Kepler’s face about an inch from his own.

“Isn’t that right, Mr. Jacobi?” He says, and Daniel, who has no idea what the man was talking about, takes a short gulp of air and says,

“Yes, Dadd–”

Hold on.

Kepler’s hand is still in his hair, Daniel is halfway out of his seat, and his swallows the last syllable before it can escape his lips. Kepler’s lips are very close to his face. He feels a short, warm exhalation as Kepler breathes out, and then–-

He lets go, and Daniel smacks his face on the table. And he remains there while he hears the door open, and then slam shut.

“Daniel. Daniel.” Alana is shaking his arm, his shoulder.

“Daniel isn’t here right now,” he says into the table. He’s not. He’s really not. He’s somewhere–-space, maybe? His body is still on earth, at the table, but Daniel isn’t. Because he’s an idiot, but he’s not that much of an idiot, to have really said that. At least, he didn’t think he was. Space, is nice, Daniel decides. He’ll just stay in space. 

“Ursa! Authorization code Gamma, Epsilon, Theta-–”

He wondered what Kepler would use to kill him. He was pretty sure Kepler had his favorite gun on him, so why bother leaving the room? What had he left to get? The Beretta was nice. Maybe–-

“–-delete memory file, AH-239J-–”

Maybe Alana will kill him so Kepler doesn’t have to? He thinks that would be better. He thinks Alana would make it nice. He’d hoped it would be one of them, and not some stranger in the dark. Or his own bomb. Or his liver. He’s glad he’s going before either of them, so he doesn’t have to deal with the aftermath of one of them being gone.

“–-processing? What do you mean processing? Ursa-–”

The door opens. Jacobi goes back to space.

“Are we done here?”

Over the speaker system, there’s a soft ping.

“Yes, sir.”

“Great. Mr. Jacobi?” Daniel-– looks up. He blinks up at Kepler, who’s frowning down at him. “You got blood on the table. Clean that up before you go, would’ya?”

Daniel nods. Kepler brings his hand down as if to clasp him on the shoulder, then continues the movement down to his side like he thought better of it. And then walks back out the door.

“Come on,” says Alana, and takes his arm to wipe at the blood spatter with his sleeve. All it does is add slime to the mixture. “Ugh.”

“What–- what just happened?” Alana just makes a complicated face at him, the one he’s learned means ‘you are a fucking disaster.’

“You are a fucking disaster,” she says.

“Yeah,” he sighs, and rubs at the mess on the table.

**Author's Note:**

> this is what happens when a shitpost grows legs. originally posted on tumblr. come yell with me @lesbianjackrackham


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